All Bets Are Off
by GamerWires627
Summary: Batter is a star baseball player. He's reasonably popular, despite lacking many friends. His girlfriend seems to be perfect too, only her boyfriend knowing how horrible she is. Zacharie is that weird kid in the back of class who wears a mask and may or may not be drunk. He has a few friends as well: eccentric Pablo, nervous Valerie, and erratic Sugar. Isn't it just amusing?
1. Trees Under Bleachers

**Hehehe... do you like the title? Ah, I crack myself up. Anyway, after my recent obsession with OFF, I am going to FUCKING find everyone else who is alive in this fandom because FUCK I LOVE OFF SO MUCH-**

**Anyway, welcome to YET ANOTHER FUCKING HUMAN/HIGHSCHOOL AU. AND THE ONLY FIC I HAVE EVER RATED M (at least so far).**

* * *

His name was Zacharie. That's pretty much all the general public knew about the odd, petite Latino boy who seemed to be everywhere. He normally wore a white sweater with heart design on it and black skinny jeans. Maybe he'd switch it up every once in a while, wearing a T-shirt with the same design over a black long-sleeved shirt. His tendency to always wear the same thing was NOT, in fact, the reason he was such an enigma to everyone.

_Enigma_. _That sounds like something Pablo would say._

The reason Zacharie was so mysterious to everyone? Well, there were actually a couple reasons. One: he always wore a mask. Usually, he wore a mask of a smiling cat (_Yet another allusion to Pablo. Wow.), _but he would also wear a toad mask on occasion. Two: his accent. Was he French? Maybe. Was he Mexican? Maybe. Was he from New York? Maybe. Three: he was virtually friendless. Sure, there was Pablo and Valerie, but he didn't even speak often to _them_.

Michael Battcher, known as just "Batter" to his friends (albeit few), was currently thinking about Zacharie. There wasn't any particular reason why. Though, it may have been just because he'd seen him running down the hall with Valerie, towards Pablo, and then proceeding to lift Pablo off the ground (with Valerie's help) and drag him away to class.

_Right. Pablo and Valerie. _

Those two were twins, Pablo being the older one (even though just by a few minutes, they did have different birthdays). Pablo was smart, calm, collected, and a little eccentric. Golden eyes shone mischievously underneath platinum blonde bangs. He seemed to like using a thousand words when only one would suffice, marking him, in Batter's mind at least, as perhaps being a little bit of a pretentious smart-ass. But when Pablo seemed to have something nice to say, you could always tell he was genuine. And he always would jump ten feet in the air if you poked him in the right spot, so Batter supposed that a person like that couldn't be all that bad. Pablo's giant smile had almost never slid from his face, and would never slide away unless he was _really _upset or _really _tired. Batter had only seen the latter situation ever occur.

Valerie, on the other hand, was a little anxious, a bit shy, a little clumsy, very kind, and a big goofball. His hair seemed to be exactly the same as his twin's, but the eyes peeking from underneath were a calm blue instead. He was just a bit shorter than his brother, but still taller than Zacharie (as most everyone their age was). He and his brother both had an odd feline air to them, for whatever reason. Batter was snapped out of his thoughts by the sight in front of him. Pablo's protests were getting cut off by the chatter around him as his brother and friend carried him off.

"'sup?" a voice asked behind him. He turned, and it was a girl just shorter than he was with brown hair in a messy bun. "Just got back from hell, what's new?" People called her Alpha, even though her name was Alaine.

"Nothing." He turned away and headed down the hall to his next class.

"That makes sense. Nothing really _does_ happen at this school." She was following right behind him, wary of the other girl in the friend group possibly popping up.

"I thought your next class was across the school, why are you following me?"

"Good point. Besides, I don't wanna be here if _she_ shows up."

"Yeah. You should probably get going."

She didn't say anything else, so Batter assumed she'd left. His next class wasn't too far away, and he stepped inside within the next fifteen seconds. That class, he remembered, was one he actually shared with another one of his friends, and the Pablo-Valerie-Zacharie trio.

The moment after he had sat down and taken out his notebook, there was a sudden poke on his shoulder. Knowing who it was, Batter didn't turn around.

"Hey."

"Hm."

"Hey, Batter!"

"What."

"Are ya going to my party tonight?"

"If Vader wants to go. Otherwise I'd be with her."

"Oh."

Damien (the name of the boy behind him) leaned over his shoulder. "Whatcha drawing?"

"I don't draw."

"Yes, you do. Your notes are covered in doodles. Literally covered. And your handwriting is terrible, by the way."

"What an astute observation."

Damien had light brown hair and could be annoying at times, but his heart was in the right place. He and Batter were both on the baseball team, and Damien happened to be the only friend that Batter had out of that group of boys.

But it was true, what Damien had said about the drawings in his notebook. The current page was completely covered in small, simple sketches or doodles of, in this case, Hamilton characters (damn you, Emmett). He'd been rudely dragged into the fandom by his theater-loving friend, but he had to admit it was a good musical.

Just before the bell rang, a paper ball hit him in the back of the head. Being one of the star baseball players, this was anything but a common occurrence, so the obvious reasoning was that it was a note. He told Damien to stop looking over his shoulder and unfolded it.

_pabs: you, me, behind bleachers, brought pot, you wanna?_

And then he realized the note was not for him. Looking behind him and to the right, he saw that Zacharie was face-palming hard. So, Batter crumpled the note up again and tossed it to the white-haired boy sitting next to him. Pablo read the note for a moment, then looked at both Batter and Zacharie. He wrote something in hurried, flourished handwriting and tossed the note back to Zacharie, giving Batter an odd look.

The bell rang and class passed as normal. As it was the last class of the day and also a Friday, he knew that those two would have some privacy to do whatever they wanted under those bleachers. He just didn't think either of them _would_. Well, he could believe Zacharie would. He was weird enough that weed wouldn't be too much of an off thing for him to do. Pablo, on the other hand, was a 'smart, good student'. But everyone knew he didn't even try for his good grades, he just seemed to breeze through all his classes while his poor brother, who tried as hard as he could, would scrape by with about a B minus in his classes.

But back to his point; he simply hadn't expected _Zacharie_ to want to smoke weed with _Pablo_. Sure, there were rumors that the girl they called Sugar smoked it behind the bleachers regularly, so if anything he'd do it with her, but again, he supposed not.

* * *

Zacharie leaned back in his seat, crossing his legs at the ankle as he tried not to fall asleep at the boring lecture. Well, that was a lie. He probably wouldn't fall asleep because of how jittery he suddenly felt- and no, he wasn't high. He was jittery because of the sudden burst of adrenaline he'd gotten from the interception of his note. Well, he wouldn't call it an interception because he really just sucked at throwing.

Even after the kid in front of and to the left of him had read his note, he had then _proceeded to crumple it back up and throw it to the intended recipient. _Zacharie didn't know whether to be grateful or weirded-out. On one hand, Pablo had received the note like Zacharie had wanted and given a positive response, but on the other, this kid now knew what was going on. He could snitch on them easily.

But why would Zacharie have brought weed to school if he _wasn't_ going to smoke it? He supposed the risk of getting caught only would heighten the experience. The thought of seeing calm, smart Pablo with his Cheshire grin get high was _hilarious_ to him. He almost laughed out loud, imagining his friend losing his eloquent style of speaking in favor of just spouting random shit, or maybe he'd just get really giggly. Either way, time could hardly pass fast enough.

Since he wore a mask, sleeping in class was pretty easy to get away with. This class was pretty dumb too, with an incompetent teacher and for a subject Zacharie knew had no use in the real world. He didn't even realize he'd put his head down and closed his eyes until the bell rang and Pablo was standing in front of his desk. Zacharie lifted his head up to look at his friend in the eye. "I'll get my backpack, then we'll head to the gym," he explained as he stood up.

"I'm afraid we will have to indulge quickly, as Valerie will be waiting for us," Pablo mentioned. _Right. Valerie. _Zacharie could picture it now, sweet, little Valerie waiting for his brother and his friend by his car. Completely unaware that the duo were getting high behind the bleachers instead of hanging out with him.

After grabbing his backpack, Zacharie and Pablo took off in a faster pace towards the gym as everyone cleared out. They wouldn't have much time between Valerie possibly getting worried or somebody doubling back and finding them, but it would work. They _would_ have enough time to at least smoke the damn stuff.

The gym, of course, was already completely cleared out, being just about everyone's least favorite class. The bleachers were pulled out for some reason or another (if they hadn't been, they still could have gotten underneath since the bleachers were absolutely huge and did have a gap where anyone could get in). The two boys both sat down underneath the bleachers quickly, Zacharie setting his backpack down and scooting so his back touched the wall. He unzipped the smallest compartment and took out the things he'd need- the weed itself in a plastic sandwich bag, and the rolling paper.

As Zacharie rolled the first joint with practiced ease, Pablo didn't seem to be nervous at all. If anything, he was completely calm, letting his normally wide smile fall into a more collected one. After finishing the first one, he handed it to Pablo while he rolled the second for himself. Pablo leaned against the hard wall now too, curiously looking at what Zacharie had just planted in his hands.

When Zacharie was done with the second, he tugged off his mask and let it fall to the ground. Then he extracted a lighter from the same small compartment, flicking it on to check it still worked.

It did.

He didn't light his own first; he lit Pablo's for him, miming with his own how to take a drag when Pablo looked confused. Then he lit his.

For a moment he felt a little bit bad, because now Pablo's favorite hoodie (the black one with a white graphic of a sleeping cat on it, that he was currently wearing) was going to smell like weed. But then again, he was sure the smell would go away in the wash. Pablo shoved a hand in his jeans pocket and pulled out his phone, setting it on the ground so he'd know sooner if Valerie texted him.

They sat in silence together, except for the one time Pablo went into a coughing fit because he did it wrong (as someone who'd been doing this for a long time, Zacharie had no idea how). They both sat under the bleachers, elbow to elbow, blazing together.

It wasn't until Pablo was halfway through his that he spoke. "You have pretty eyes, you know? Why do you wear that mask all the time?"

The pot seemed to be having _some_ effect on him now, since he didn't decide to litter his sentence with unnecessarily long words.

"You know why I wear it. Don't want people to see all these," Zacharie explained, waving at his face to indicate the scars all over it. He would take the mask off around Valerie, Pablo, and Sugar, but never anyone else.

Well, except his dad.

"And my eyes aren't _pretty_, Pablo."

"They _are_. Green eyes are cool."

Green eyes: something that had originally puzzled those three he took the mask off around. He looked Latino, meaning green eyes weren't expected. But he was actually mixed race, his skin just took after his mother's.

"'least they're cool compared to..." Pablo waved his hand in front of his eyes. "Piss color."

Zacharie snorted out loud. "What do you _mean, _'piss color'? Your eyes are like... super rare."

"At least yours are normal-looking."

Zacharie didn't respond and Pablo didn't say anything else. Well, at least until the latter looked down at the cat on his hoodie.

"Okay, but... what if... I was a cat...?"

"You basically already are."

Pablo slunk to the ground and made a little noise that sounded like 'mrow'. He put his hood up and his hands imitated little cat ears on his head.

Zacharie pat him on the head once as he finished with his joint. Pablo was already done, the weed _really_ taking effect on him now.

All he could hope was that the first time he himself had smoked pot, he hadn't acted like this in front of Sugar. That would be really embarrassing. "You're so weird," he finally said.

"I know. I'm high, cut me some slack."

"Would you like it cut thinly or thickly?"

"Thick but with four 'c's."

"Thicccck," sad Zacharie, trying to put as much stress on specifically the 'c' as he could.

"Basically."

Zacharie stood up, motioning for Pablo to move from his... 'comfortable' (he didn't think necks should go like that) position on the floor and join him. "There's something Sugar did with me the first time I did this," he mentioned. "Do you have music on your phone?"

"What kind of question is that? Of course I do." Pablo fiddled with it for a moment and then a familiar song came on.

_More than meets the eye  
__To tell the truth, would be a lie  
__I saw her out on Friday night, misunderstood  
She's ballin' for a guy  
That cigarette, it needs a light  
Pluck up the courage and invite her nowhere good_

Zacharie whistled. "Good choice. Anyway, Sugar decided as a way to celebrate my first high, we were gonna dance."

"And so you want to dance with me?"

_'Cause I need this more than just a one night stand_  
_Need that honey when she hold my hand_  
_Times like this, they call for true romance_  
_But she's not ready for that_

Zacharie held out his hand with a grin. "Of course."

_She lets me down  
Then gets me high  
Oh, I don't know why  
She's just my type_  
_She's bad advice_  
_I don't think twice_  
_Oh, I don't know why_  
_She's what I like_

Pablo seemed more than happy to dance around in his current state, which again, gave Zacharie thoughts of how he'd acted the first time.

_But I, I, I love it  
I, I, I love it_  
_Love the way she plays with my head_  
_She gets me down, then gets me high_  
_Oh, I don't know why  
She's just my type_

Both of them were dancing to the music coming from Pablo's phone, completely forgetting about the boy waiting for them in the parking lot. They didn't remember until a few songs had passed and the phone

Pablo hesitantly picked it up, put it on speakerphone, and was greeted by his brother shouting at him. Zacharie couldn't help his small pout as the music stopped. Pablo had to hold the phone away from his ear uncomfortably as Valerie ranted about having to wait. Zacharie acted first. "We'll be there in a couple minutes, byeeee!"

Then he hung up the call.

"You do know he might be more upset that you hung up on him, right?" Pablo asked.

"Oh, fuck..." Zacharie said softly. "Well, we should probably get going. It's only a matter of time before-"

There was the loud sound of the gym doors slamming open and the familiar screech of the gym coach, "Is anybody in here?!"

Pablo's palm met his cheek. "Shit!"

Zacharie picked up his backpack and his mask and stood at the end of the bleachers, peeking out to look at the coach. Seemingly being unable to hear either of them, he went over to check the locker rooms; it seemed whoever ratted the two out hadn't mentioned exactly where they would be. "God, it better not have been that baseball guy..." Zacharie muttered. "He didn't seem like a snitch."

"And here I thought we could trust him..." Pablo quietly lamented like the high drama queen he was, currently.

"You can cry about that later. Now's our chance!" Zacharie said dramatically, grabbing Pablo by the wrist and sprinting with him to the doors and silently as he possibly could. It seemed they were in the clear, running down the hall with reckless abandon. They weren't even a full classroom away yet when both of them seemed to burst into small snickers and giggles at the situation. The doors leading to the parking lot where Valerie was were halfway across the school and Zacharie had said they'd be there soon, but they had more important things to do.

First, Pablo had to grab his backpack. He fumbled with the combination to his locker a little bit in the process.

Second, both of them were thirsty. Easy fix, and the doors were right there next to the water fountain. And so the two delinquents ran outside, unconsciously searching for the familiar silver of Valerie's car and consciously realizing that they could have gotten in _really, really _bad trouble had they run at the wrong moment. They both eventually slowed their run, Pablo shoved his phone and hands into his hoodie's pocket, and Zacharie straightened his mask.

Suddenly, a silver car door opened and a familiar boy stormed out, slamming the door shut. "_There_ you are! Where were you?!"

All of them were lucky that it was Valerie's week to drive, because a high-as-a-kite Pablo shouldn't be anywhere near a steering wheel. As opposed to his brother's hoodie, Valerie wore a dark gray short-sleeved jacket over a lighter gray T-shirt and black skinny jeans. He also wore quite an annoyed expression. "Answer me."

"We were... doing a thing behind the bleachers..." said Pablo. He was apparently so high he forgot the exact word for 'smoking weed' and he paused to try and remember it. Zacharie lifted his mask since the three were the only ones in the parking lot now, and he made a face at Pablo. He wanted to laugh at his friend's loss of his eloquence, but there were more important things to worry about now.

"You mean..." Valerie squinted at their appearances, being a little mussed up both in the hair and clothes department from all the high shenanigans (dancing can get intense, especially when high) Pablo had gotten the duo up to. Then he looked at their faces, seeming to come to an unknown conclusion as his eyes widened. "You actually had _sex_ underneath those nasty bleachers?!" he whisper-yelled.

"What?! No!" Pablo screeched. "No! No! Absolutely not, you pervert!"

Now Zacharie actually laughed a little bit, both at Pablo's flustered face (he'd thought Pablo was too high to get embarrassed like that but he supposed he was wrong) and at Valerie's massive jump in logic. "We did _weed,"_ he clarified. "Not each other."

"_Oh._ That explains the smell, at least." Valerie was about to get back in his car before realizing. "Wait, you did _what_?!"

"Weed."

"I _know_ that, you smart-ass! Why would you- I mean-"

"Are you just mad we didn't invite you?" Zacharie teased. He walked around the front of the car and hopped into the passenger seat, leaving Pablo to stumble into the back. Pablo had sprawled himself out in the backseat already by the time Valerie got in.

"No! I don't want to do weed. Why would you do it _at school_?!"

"School was over," Pablo mentioned.

"Yes, but I was waiting for you! You guys should have at least told me so I didn't have to worry! And what about our _parents_, huh? Pablo, what if Mom's already home? She's going to be able to tell both of you are high!"

"Relax, Val," said Zacharie as the younger twin started the car. He put his mask back into place so nobody saw his face through the window. Even high, he still knew not to take the mask off around anyone but Sugar, Valerie, and Pablo.

"No! I can't relax because Pablo and I are going to be in _big_ trouble if our mom is home! And you're going to be in trouble too, when you go home!" Valerie's hands were gripping the steering wheel tightly as he drove out of the parking lot and onto the road. Pablo didn't seem to mind, he was just humming to himself in the backseat.

"I know I won't be, Val," Zacharie explained, "because my dad won't be home until it's late and I'm going to hang out with you two until that party tonight."

"First, what about your mom? Second, what party?"

"Valerie, my mom is dead."

There was silence, except for typical car sounds. "Oh... I-"

"And I'm talking about that party at that kid Damien's house. I heard him talking to the baseball guy about it."

"The guy who got your note...?" Pablo murmured. "The guy who probably told on us?"

"Yeah, him."

Valerie sighed loudly. "You're lucky I know where Damien's house is. But what time is it supposed to be at?"

"I don' know... let's just show up when it's dark out or something. Or we could ask Japhet, he might know," Zacharie suggested.

"We are _not_ asking my boyfriend about a party!" Valerie shouted.

"It's worth a shot."

"You're high!"

"I'm aware."

Valerie let out a heavy noise in between a groan and a whine.

"Is that a 'yes'?"

"Shut up, you."

* * *

To Zacharie's intense amusement, Pablo was a lot funnier when he was high in the backseat of Valerie's car. He even had Valerie laughing at his dumb-but-trying-to-be-smart responses to things, and when nobody would talk, he'd sometimes just giggle or hum to himself.

Everything changed, though, when Valerie pulled in to the driveway. "Shhhiiiiiit. Mom's home. Fuck, what are we gonna do? You guys both smell like weed and she knows Pablo doesn't normally giggle or hum for no reason. Both of you are obviously high, especially him!" Valerie groaned, somewhat directing his words towards Zacharie and the last statement being about his twin.

"...Sorry," Pablo murmured. His somber tone was almost enough to lift the mood, ironically.

"Mom's going to be so fucking pissed..."

"Yeah, she's gonna be all like 'YoU tWo DiD tHe MaRe-Ih-Ja-WaNnAs?!'" Zacharie teased.

"Shut up, my mom doesn't sound like that!" Valerie protested.

"Let's just go in... if she asks we'll just..." Pablo flopped his hands uselessly.

Zacharie opened his door and slid out of the car, hopping up the steps with his backpack over his shoulder. Valerie followed anxiously, Pablo stumbling in the back. Zacharie didn't even get a chance to see the twins's mom, Valerie herding the two upstairs and into his bedroom. Valerie's room was the same size as Pablo's, but looked bigger due to being just about perfectly clean. If you walked into Pablo's room, you'd probably trip over all the clothes and shoes on the floor. There was dust on the furniture except the right nightstand, due to its frequent use. But with Valerie's room, all dirty clothes were neatly in the hamper behind the door, the closet was closed (it probably was the only disaster zone in the room), no dust, and the only real thing on the floor were the shoes he'd just kicked off. Zacharie and Pablo were both prompted to take their own off and toss them into the hall.

"So..." Zacharie trailed off, sitting on Valerie's bed. "Are you gonna ask Japhet if he knows anything about the party?"

"Zacharie!"

"What? You've been dating for three months, you can ask about a party."

"No, I can't!"

"Why not?"

"It's too embarrassing!" Valerie covered his face.

Pablo fell on the bed on his face. He said something that was muffled and sounded a bit like, "Just do it".

Valerie opened his mouth to protest again, but he was interrupted by the ringing of his phone. He took the call immediately, not bothering to look at the caller ID. His face flushed slightly as he realized who it was. "Oh, hello, my _beautiful, beautiful darling_. Say, my friend Zacharie had a question for you."

Zacharie waved the phone away, just prompting Valerie to shove it more in his face. Sighing, he took the phone and posed his question. "Do you know when Damien's party starts?"

"Oh, hi Zacharie. Yeah, I know when it starts, I'll pick you guys up if you want me to." Japhet's voice was rich and smooth with a faint French accent. Zacharie could tell how Valerie had fallen for him- just the voice was enough. Zacharie looked up at the twins for affirmation, receiving a weak thumbs-up from Pablo and a nod from Valerie.

"That would be great."

* * *

**And so I've decided to cut off chapter 1 before it gets too long. I mean, it's already hit a higher wordcount than any chapter I have ever written. 4,500 words and then some.**


	2. Party

**Sup its ya boy back at it again at Krispy Kreme**

* * *

The party was already underway when Japhet, Valerie, Pablo, and Zacharie arrived. While the couple took their sweet time getting out of the car, Pablo and Zacharie had both raced up the stairs in a mock competition.

Pablo 'won' by jumping in front of Zacharie after opening the door and throwing his arm out to stop the dash of his friend. Lights were off, music was blaring, and there was copious amounts of alcohol. Pablo pulled down the sleeve of his hoodie, a nervous habit whenever he thought someone could see the secrets buried in his wrists.

As always, he was in no danger at all, and Valerie gently reminded him that he would be fine. Japhet's arm was around Valerie's shoulders still, and the moment Pablo caught a glimpse of the tall French boy, he darted across the room. Zacharie tailed him to the kitchen.

Pablo's darting was more of a quick shuffle because of the high concentration of people in the house. Zacharie was lucky to keep track of his friend in the crowd- _so_ many people turned up to this party, it was insane- and the blaring music didn't help matters. Pablo then went out the door to the backyard, where it was much less crowded. Somebody had jumped into the pool, but the most attention-drawing thing was the person standing by himself near the fence with a red plastic cup like the ones you see in movies.

"Look." Zacharie grabbed Pablo from behind by the shoulders and pointed at him. "Baseball guy."

"You seem to be correct. Though if I may add, I believe his moniker is 'Batter'."

"Like, 'hey batter batter, hey batter batter swing' Batter?"

"Perhaps."

"I'm gonna go ask him if he told on us. You wanna come with?"

A cheeky grin. "Of course."

Zacharie and Pablo walked side-by-side to Batter. Once he had noticed them, Zacharie shouted, "Hey batter batter, hey batter batter swing!"

"Why?" He was staring at them under the shadow of his hat, visibly annoyed by the reference.

"Because you're not dancing with everyone else and you're a baseball player."

"I don't dance."

"And _there_ it is! 'I don't dance'! I told you, Pablo!"

"Why did you decide to come here if it happens to be that you do not dance?" asked Pablo

Batter took a moment to respond, since people who didn't often talk to Pablo often needed a second to get used to his way of speaking. "My girlfriend wanted to go."

"Oh." For some reason, Zacharie found himself slightly disappointed. He chalked it up to Batter being one of the few genuinely cute guys he'd seen in a while. "Dancing is easy, by the way. See- Pablo, come over here- how easy it is."

Without a word, when Pablo come into proximity the masked boy grabbed his hand, twirled him, and dipped him, leaving Pablo fairly flustered.

"Of course, that's a more formal thing," said Zacharie. "But see how easily I did that?"

"Yes. That doesn't mean I'm going to dance with everyone else," responded Batter.

Zacharie shrugged. "Suit yourself. Let's go, Pa- Oh! Before I forget, did you...? Pablo? Who are you staring at?"

Just before Zacharie was about to ask the would-be snitch about what he might or might not have done, he had caught Pablo staring and smiling just barely, a dreamy, forgetful smile at something- more likely some_one_\- in the distance, his cheeks dusted with a light pink. Zacharie turned and followed Pablo's line of sight to find a well-known, charismatic brunette boy at the end.

"Isn't that Damien?" Zacharie asked, quietly enough so that only Pablo heard.

He nodded.

"Why are you staring? That's rude, you kn-"

And then it hit him like a brick. Zacharie steered Pablo away from Batter so his friend wouldn't be too embarrassed by what Zacharie was about to say.

"Do you... _like _Damien?"

"Well, I suppose, yet it depends on exactly what type of 'like' you mean." Pablo had averted his gaze, but the damage was already done.

"Like... do-you-have-a-crush-on-him 'like'. You know. Not that it would make complete and total sense if you liked him. Because it's not like you almost never come with me to parties and yet you make an exception for this one boy who, in my opinion at least, is good-looking and a bit charming when he wants to be. Because that wouldn't make sense. At all. It also doesn't make sense that there's a rumor he's bi. And he's single. Just in case you were looking to get with him. Which you probably aren't. But just in case."

Zacharie smirked underneath his mask as Pablo turned away towards the back door, but didn't move until he said, "Yes. That would make no sense whatsoever."

"Valerie is going to freak out when he hears about this, you know."

"Do not tell him. You, frankly, don't understand how _awful_ little brothers can be. Especially when it comes to matters such as this."

"Pablo, you're twins. He's only a few minutes younger than you."

"And yet we have different birthdays."

"Ah, you got me there. Hey, want to get some drinks?"

"...Yes."

* * *

How long had it been? At least an hour, Zacharie figured. That would make sense, seeing as he probably couldn't walk in a straight line anymore. He _had_ managed to get his hands on some vodka, but frankly gave up on drinking it in pursuit of the meaningless task of finding Valerie.

He had probably passed by the blue-eyed boy a thousand times in the crowd, but he was finally stopped just to look into those eyes. "Do you know where my brother is?!" he was shouting over the music.

Zacharie shook his head lazily and turned away, the meaningless drunk task fulfilled. The next task was to find Pablo, the suggestion in his mind from what Valerie had said. A nagging thought, the last of his sobriety, said that he had better find his best friend before some creep took advantage of him, seeing as the last time he saw Pablo, he had obviously been drinking and Pablo just about _never_ got drunk.

That nagging thought was something Zacharie would never want to see happen, but was sadly a reality at giant parties like this one. Pablo wasn't exactly liked among the school's population- sure, there _were _people who didn't get what was wrong with him- but the majority of the current junior year disliked him. Most upperclassmen and underclassmen couldn't really care less about someone who wasn't in their grade. That last bit of his sobriety gave him a fleeting flashback of freshman year, with blood on the pavement, on _that awful boy's _knuckles, and a crimson wound on the side of a head with glazed-over golden eyes. Valerie's scream. His own shocked, strangled gasp. A nearly skeletal figure hiding in a mass of over-sized hoodies, smiles, and bandages. Meals that went uneaten. His best friend being cornered, forced onto the ground, and-

The last bit had all but disappeared, leaving Zacharie with an odd sense of having no idea what he'd just been thinking about. But it didn't matter, he'd found his friend- Pablo was leaning against the wall of the hallway which Zacharie presumed had bedrooms, numbly holding a generic red plastic cup that seemed almost empty. There was no telling what had been in there, from beer to that cheap wine that Pentel kid had dug up, to some of that vodka Zacharie had found earlier, to even that lean some other kid brought and was making. Pablo didn't _look _disheveled- at least, not any more than a normal drunk person would look like- and didn't _look _like he'd rediscovered the feeling of someone trying to have their way with him.

Or maybe Zacharie was a lot more drunk than he'd initially thought.

Pablo looked at him with dull, unfocused eyes, groaning and putting his head in his hands. He seemed to have gone past the point where it stopped feeling good and started feeling shitty. Zacharie, who seemed to be nearing that point as well, could understand the struggle. So, he took his friend by the hand and led him into a quiet bedroom. Pablo nearly tripped over his own feet as he followed.

Their eyes met.

The door closed.

They both slurred their words as they spoke.

One of them wound up on the bed. The tables were turned.

Inhibitions were lost.

And one thing led to another.

There went Pablo's hoodie. Across the room. The sight of it was humorous to Zacharie. And Zacharie's fingertips trailing on his sides was apparently humorous to Pablo; he was wiggling and snickering, after all.

Zacharie never took off his mask.

Pablo didn't try to kiss him.

Pablo also wasn't wearing a shirt under his hoodie. Just that black crop-top like thing over his chest.

There were so many scars on Pablo's arms. Of course, Zacharie had seen them all before, from the tiny, barely noticeable, horizontal ones to the gigantic, vertical, deep ones that didn't look like they would disappear any time soon.

The ones from that horrible day.

The day with too much blood and a note. Zacharie and Valerie in the hospital waiting room. Waiting for news on the friend who was wasting away into nothing. Having to readjust because the name they called Pablo wasn't the name Pablo wanted to be called.

A needy whine beneath him snapped him out of his thoughts.

Clothes?

Who needed clothes when he could be so warm with his drunk best friend, touching and squirming and moaning. When he was drunk too.

Where was his pants? Bah, who cares. He'd worry about that later. Now he had to deal with all this _lust_.

The figure beneath him mewled. Angelic platinum blond hair spread out on the comforter. Still had his mask on. Still no kissing. They weren't a couple. They were just two horny, drunk teenagers. Fucking in a stranger's bedroom. And not _with _said stranger. Skin on skin. Slow and fast, slow and fast. Fast and slow. Ah, there it was. Ow, Best Friend really should file his nails. Or maybe he just shouldn't dig them into Zacharie's back when he hit _just _the right spot. The spot that made Pablo gasp and whimper when Zacharie kept ramming into it.

There was buildup.

And as fast as it begun, it was over.

Well, guess Pablo wasn't a virgin anymore.

Zacharie slowly reached for his pants and couldn't find his sweater, drunkenly helping Pablo back into his clothes. Then they both passed out next to each other.

* * *

He groaned as he was shaken awake by a brunette boy. "Whaddya want...?" he whined, rolling over and realizing he was shirtless. And his head hurt. And it was really dark.

Oh.

Right.

Damien was saying something like, "Go home, the party's over. Also this is my room and I kinda want to sleep."

With barely realizing that they'd had sex in _Pablo's crush's bedroom and were now being woken up by Pablo's crush_, Zacharie shook Pablo, but he was already awake but barely awake, holding his head and looking horribly pale. Pablo was dressed, Zacharie needed his sweater, and it was unceremoniously thrown into his face by Damien.

Zacharie tugged on his sweater, grateful that the side of him that had decided to drunkenly hook up with his best friend had enough sense to not take off his mask.

Pablo promptly fell forward and threw up on the carpet, heaving out all of what he'd had that night. Damien helped him stand up. Zacharie stumbled a bit.

They both made their way out of the now-empty and trashed house. Standing out in the chilly night air was refreshing, but didn't help how shitty and tired Zacharie felt.

"I don't know how to get to my house," said Pablo. "Not from here."

He looked like he'd still be throwing up on Damien's carpet if there was anything left to throw up.

"Then let's go to my house," Zacharie offered.

They began to walk.

Zacharie wasn't sure how to explain the small bit of satisfaction he got when he saw that Pablo was limping.

_He's limping because of me. Because of... us. I guess. And alcohol. I suppose drunk me can get rough. I hope it doesn't hurt too much. Ah, what am I thinking? That was good._

_At least it was for me_.

"I hope I didn't hurt you," said Zacharie.

"Why do you say that?"

_So oblivious. _

"You're limping."

Color returned to Pablo's cheeks, shaking his head at Zacharie and attempting not to limp but it did seem to hurt to walk without limping enough that not-limping didn't last for long.

"I swear, I'm going to have bruises tomorrow. Why did you have to grab me like that?"

Zacharie almost responded ('because you normally grab thighs or hips or something when you fuck someone the way we were') before he realized it was not meant to be answered. Imagining Pablo with bruised thighs and hips from his rough treatment had something oddly alluring about it, which was weird because Zacharie was not in love with Pablo.

Maybe Zacharie was just a kinky bastard.

"Are you okay?" he asked as Pablo started to look a bit sick again.

"I'll be fine."

They arrived at Zacharie's house soon. Zacharie walked in, not afraid to wake up his father, since the useless man had probably drunk himself half to death. As was the norm. Though he was cautious around that one particular creaking floorboard. Just in case.

He'd rather not finish the night with a black eye.

Zacharie's room was small and lousy, but the bed was big enough for both of them to sleep. Albeit, they would at least have to touch, but as they both laid down, Pablo proved himself to be feeling a bit clingy.

Zacharie threw off his mask. Pablo took a moment to stand, tell Zacharie not to look, take off that black crop-top-like garment, and set it on top of the mask on the dresser. Then he put his hoodie back on and flopped back onto the bed.

And they feel asleep next to each other in a close, warm embrace.

* * *

Valerie paced his room. His mother had given up on being mad at Valerie, since he _did _drink a bit at the party, for being worried about Pablo. Everyone in the household was aware of how the rest of junior year thought about Pablo.

Half of them would still call him 'Mirabel'.

Valerie, like his parents, was worried about his brother.

Because Valerie had witnessed firsthand what they did to him in freshman year.

He would never forget.

The blood. Skin and bones. "I already ate" and "I'm fine". So many tears. Torn hoodies. Bleeding through a bandage. Self-made scars. Hospital trips and begging for Pablo to stay and hoping for the best in a waiting room. Knowing that the best probably meant Pablo would be upset with Valerie, because he stopped him. Or it was the anxiety.

What was he thinking about again?

Right.

People often underestimated bullies. How they could go so far to ruin the poor victim's life. How they could turn a confident, smiling boy into a shivering, sobbing mess when they got their hands on him. A mess with choppy hair and a head wound from being bashed over and over. A mess with possibly thousands of scars because they hated him so much that he started to believe they were right. A mess who became a freezing skeleton, wearing a dozen layers because there was no more fat to keep in body heat, who became that skeleton because their comments about him never passing for a boy hit deep with a severely dysphoric teenager.

_"He was lucky. He got here just in time."_

_"You saved him, Valerie. You're a hero."_

Valerie had saved his brother's life.

But Pablo couldn't seem to care any less what he did what that life.

* * *

Batter barely drank anything at all. He'd rather not incur the wrath of his parents, thank you very much. After all, they would be mad enough when they found out how late he was out.

But they wouldn't find out.

Hopefully.

His bedroom was messy. He closed the window and fell into bed without changing.

It was quiet.

It was quite possible that everyone in the world was asleep right now, except for him.

Goodnight.

* * *

**ooh la la, there was very abstract smut and then idk.**


End file.
